The Missing Ryder
by StArZiLL
Summary: Jess and Rob, after Missing You, are sharing Rob's house and a Political Science class at a local college.  But when their professor apparently commits suicide under mysterious circumstances, it's up to the couple to get to the bottom of it...
1. Alarm Clocks

**CHAPTER ONE**

"Jess… Get up!"

I moaned and rolled over, clutching at the sheets. My bleary eyes spotted the annoying little alarm clock that Rob insisted on keeping flashing bright red digital numbers. God, those things should really be banned.

It took me a few seconds to register exactly what the little thing was trying to tell me. That I was way late for class. Strangely, this didn't bother me as much as the fact that I was being shaken awake much to early for me to be in any sort of good mood.

"Jess! Jess, sweetheart you need to get up!"

This, rather than the little beeping chunk of annoyingness known as an alarm clock, startled me awake.

"Hmm?" I said, screwing up my face and running my fingers through my shortly cropped hair. "Did you just call me sweetheart?" PET NAMES? Since when did we get on the level of PET NAMES?

Rob leaned over me, kissing my ear. I noticed his cheeks were slightly red, in an embarrassed sort of way. Ha! I caught him in the act. Sweetheart… Honestly.

I rolled over so his lips caught mine, and I enjoyed the relaxing tingling sensation for a moment before he pulled back. Mmmm, shirtless.

"Not until you get up." He said, but he ran his lips across my nose anyway. What a hypocrite.

I sighed and sat up, yawning and stretching, my hair an absolute mess. My arm almost knocked into Rob, who was now pulling a black T-shirt over his head. I shook my head to relieve the sleepiness.

"Have sweet dreams?" I muttered, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand. Coincidentally, the one with my engagement ring on it. God, three whole months with the thing, and I still managed to nearly poke my eye out. I am so talented.

"No dreams for me. You?"

I frowned, trying to remember.

"I'm pretty sure that I had dreams where my Professor from history ate me." I spotted his raised eyebrows, and shrugged. "Nothing special though. No locating dreams this time."

"Cool." Rob said vaguely, checking around for his keys. He turned around and looked at me again. "Jess, you really do need to get dressed you know."

I grinned and looked down at my huge T-shirt and boxer shorts. "I dunno. What'd ya think my Pol. Sci. teacher would think if I just show up like this?" I stood up and struck a model pose. "Oh my god, I think that I discovered the fashion sensation of the 21st century."

Rob rolled his eyes at me, but nodded approvingly. "I dunno, Mastriani. I don't think half the guys in class would be able to concentrate. Including me."

"Then I'll get the leading grade!" I said cheerfully, grabbing a pair of jeans and pulling them on. Then I stared at Rob.

"Your keys are on the dresser." I said, conversationally. He glanced around and spotted them, then gave me a suspicious glare and muttered something that sounded strangely like "You wouldn't mumble to find them EITHER if you didn't mumble stupid psychic mumble, mumble."

"What was that?" I asked, inclining my head slightly closer than necessary towards him. "I didn't quite catch the last part. Something about my powers…"

Rob groaned and pulled me into his arms. This time, his shirt was on, but he had on my favorite pair of his jeans… the ones that were faded in the exact right places? So distracting.

"What would I do without you?" He muttered into my hair. God, he was good at getting off the subject.

Now, don't get me wrong or anything. I'm not exactly a rainbow-butterfly-unicorn type of girl, you know? The ones that- God forbid- read romance novels and freak out about their long blonde hair and perfect eyelashes? The ones that wooed over hot football players back in high school and tended to wear… um… to put it politely, some more REVEALING stuff (a certain Karen-Sue Hanky comes to mind)? Yeah, that's so not me. I'm more of a faded-jean-fist-fight-short-haired-what-the-frick-is-prada sorta person. So, you know, I'm not really so into the mushy romantic stuff.

Except where Rob is concerned. He's the one exception to my anti-girly-girl routine. I mean, I'm in love with the guy. He's my best friend. We're ENGAGED for God's sake. I have some right to some minimal romantic conversation with him.

"Hmmmm," I hugged back, my breath muffled by his chest. "You would probably have a lot more room in your house." Seriously. Despite my non-valley-girl status, I still had a surprising amount of clutter that had been moved into Rob's (and now, my) home last month.

He laughed, and tilted my head up for a quick kiss.

"I'd also be a lot less happy."

Aw. God, this guy knew how to make a girl melt. I was in TOTAL la-la land. That is, until I saw the clock. Crap.

"Uh, Rob, hate to spoil the mood and all." He looked at me, frowning slightly. "But its kind of time for class…"

It was Wednesday, which means that Rob and I actually had a class together, Political Science. I didn't' really like the class, or the professor.

Scratch that, I HATED the class. I mean, politics AND school? God, how much torture can you put a girl through? Plus Professor Ryder? Yeah, she was not the most lenient teacher in the world. Five minutes late? Yeah, don't expect any sympathy. In fact, expect a lecture. Otherwise, I wouldn't really give a crap that we were late.

Rob seemed to be debating. Whether or not he gave a crap, I mean.

He looked down at his watch (which was, I might add, an important symbol of our relationship) and seemed to jerk to his senses. He looked at me, then at the watch, then back at me again.

"Aw, screw it." He muttered, and drew my head up to his again.

But now I'm thinking back to it, I sorta think I should've stopped him. I mean, if we had gotten to college a few minutes earlier, we probably could've stopped it. If we had held off making out until we got home, then our professor would probably have still been alive by the time we got there

But we didn't. So she wasn't. Alive, I mean.


	2. The Note

**CHAPTER TWO**

You know when you have that feeling that everything is just way too good to be true? Like, your life is going absolutely perfectly, but you know in your heart that it just can't last?

That's kind of how it's been for me lately. Perfect, that is. I mean, think about it! I convinced my parents to let me move in with Rob, which… well, let's just say I'm glad that THAT part of my engagement is over. Rob and I have a class together at school; I had a guaranteed job when I graduate, at the new high school that my brother and his girlfriend are working on. I'm getting married to the hottest guy in the world, who can, by the way, repair my motorcycle free of charge any time it gets rusty. My mom hadn't called to freak out about wedding plans and all that crap for two whole weeks, which was a record for her.

And of course, most importantly, nothing had disturbed my psychic powers for the past few months. I hadn't had a bad dream in a while (which sometimes accompanies those oh-so-annoying finding people missions), and the FBI hadn't bugged me about war prisoners or whatever. No missing person had caught my attention that needed to be found, nor had any mysteries stumbled across my path that had needed fast solving.

I was enjoying a perfectly normal life style, thank you very much.

That is, until Rob and I walked into the Pol. Sci. class that morning, late.

It's not like anything LOOKED unusual. The desks were all in place, a few of them taken up by other people in the class. The smart do-gooders were sitting down, their books on the desk in front of them. Some of the more don't-know-don't-care types were flirting at the back of the classroom; obviously thrilled that Professor Ryder was late.

Because she was. Late, I mean. She had to be, as she was nowhere to be found. That struck me as odd. Like I mentioned before, the Prof. absolutely FREAKED OUT if you were so much as a minute tardy to her classroom. I glanced at Rob, who shrugged as if to say, "I know as much as you do".

I glanced around again, as if expecting to find her leaning up against a wall somewhere, ready to get in our face for being late. But, of course, she wasn't anywhere that I could see. Briefly, I wondered if one of the kids in the back had stuffed her in a closet somewhere.

"Hey guys!" I called across the room so that everyone could hear, "Anyone know where Professor Ryder is?"

One of the jaunty freshman kids in the back yelled, "Dunno, don't care." He was rewarded a chorus of giggles from the group of girls surrounding him, all apparently thinking he was the funniest thing since Mike Meyers.

I rolled my eyes and turned my eyes to the front row, seeing another girl sitting there. She looked quiet and breathy, and was looking nervously straight ahead, her brown curls falling over her eyes. I distantly recognized her as the Smart Girl of the class. I'm pretty sure her name was Marcy.

"Hey, Marcy?" I said, looking directly at her. "Do you know where Prof. Ryder is?"

She looked at me, about to reply, then glanced over at Rob. When she saw him, her face blushed crimson and she whispered, "Um, no. I haven't seen her." Then she peeked up at Rob through her bangs and said, "Hey Rob."

I looked at him, raising my eyebrows in a someone's-got-an-admirer manner, and he shrugged at me apologetically.

"Hey," he said causally back to Marcy, and she blushed an even darker red. God, you'd have thought she was a second grader. As we walked away, I made sure to, accidentally of course, flash my engagement ring in her direction. Just in case.

I looked around the room again. I don't know if it was my powers, or just regular

ole' human instinct, but something didn't seem right. Rob put a hand on my shoulder.

"Let's look around," he said quietly. "This is making me nervous."

I nodded, and jerked my head towards the desk in the corner where she kept all her papers.

"Maybe she left a note or something on her desk, explaining why she's not here." I said, over the rousing noise of the people in the back of the room. Rob nodded, and followed me to the small table, keeping a hand on my shoulder the whole time.

We started to sift through her papers gently, checking for anything that might give us a hint to where she was. I didn't' see anything except a bunch of papers that she had graded, noticing to my satisfaction and surprise, that Marcy hadn't done as well as usual.

Suddenly, Rob held up a folded scrap, which had been resting on the keyboard. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I held out my hand for it. When I glanced down at the paper, I gasped.

She had left a note, all right.

Without saying anything, I handed it to Rob. He read it slowly, seeing as it was only a few sentences. His eyes widened, and he glanced up from the room and yelled

sharply, "Who has a cell phone?"

There was a beat of silence. When the boy in the back raised his hand meekly, Rob looked directly at him and said, strangely calm, "Call nine-one-one. Looks like the Prof. won't make it in to work today."

When the boy looked confused, Rob sighed and held out the piece of paper. Written on it, was the passage:

I CANNOT LIVE ANY LONGER. MY LIFE HAS BEGUN TO BE TOO BRUTAL FOR ME TO HANDLE. WHOEVER FINDS THIS; PLEASE TELL HENRY THAT I'M SORRY.

Beneath the message was her signature.

And a strange spot. That looked, rather uncomfortably, like blood.


	3. Lightning Girl

**CHAPTER THREE**

"Name?"

The skinny, mousy-haired police officer in front of me seemed thrilled at the concept of asking my name. He had his little pad of yellow paper open to a nice, fresh page, and a pen was being clutched so tightly between his thumb and forefinger, that I thought it would snap.

I gritted my teeth. The dude was probably a newbie to the force, practically peeing his pants every time a case came up. And this was a- ohmigod- SUICIDE. Lord, I'm surprised he didn't have a coronary.

Rob rubbed my shoulders reassuringly, probably the only thing to keep me from killing the inspector. I mean, we had been here for an hour, and he was just now asking us our names? Jeez, this guy really was a cop, wasn't he?

Not that he was the only one there of course. When the guy in the back (I think his name was Sam) had called the police, they had responded with an overwhelming twelve policemen, all exceptionally eager to boss us around and snap pictures of the tiny classroom. No offense, but what the hell? I mean, it's not like there was a body or anything. Only a note, and a crumpled scrap of one at that. I guess not all that much really happens in a tiny country town like this.

So while all the other students had been herded to the back while the policemen "searched for clues," Rob and I had been interrogated about the note.

"Jess," I said through tightly clenched teeth to the police officer. "Mastriani."

He looked confused at the last part, and paused from writing it down.

"Mastrani." I explained, feigning patience. "My last name?"

"Well yes, I know," he said, frowning at me. "But I seem to recognize that name from somewhere…"

It was my turn to frown. "I don't think we've ever met…"

I saw Rob glower at the police officer, and he hurriedly moved on.

"And you found the note?"

I stared up at him, dumbfounded. Had he even LISTENED when we had told him what had happened? Had I not CLEARLY expressed that ROB had found the note, and I had READ IT?

"No Sir, I found the note." Rob, thankfully, intervened before I did something very stupid. Like assault a cop. "I handed it to her, and she read it."

"Any particular reason you did that?"

Rob and I exchanged glances before he answered with a rather baffled, "Uh, no, not really. Any particular reason you asked?" Go Rob! Standing up to a cop. My hero.

Unfortunately, the officer was so far gone that he didn't even realized he was being mocked. He shook his head slightly and asked yet another question, now directed at me again.

"Any idea who Henry is?"

Rob had to tighten his hold on my shoulders considerably.

"If I did I would have told you." I said, after counting to ten and slowly exhaling. Cops tended to get on my nerves. A lot.

"Um, excuse me?'

I looked around, startled to see Marcy approaching us, blushing crimson. She appeared to be biting her lip, as it came out a little muffled.

"What?" I said, irritated. I'm sorry, but if this chick couldn't get a hold of herself and do whatever she needed to in thirty seconds, I couldn't be held responsible for my actions. I mean, this moron of a cop was trying to get a grip on questioning us; I had been stuck in this stifling room for the past hour, not to mention that my fiancée and I had found the suicide note of one of our teachers. Plus this girl had the hots for Rob! I think I deserved to hit something. However, what she said next calmed me down a little.

"Um, Henry? The guy in the note? Well, I remember her mentioning, in one of her lectures, her husband Henry. Do you think there's some connection, maybe?"

I nodded as if to say, well put. But the cop didn't fall for it.

"If she mentioned him in one of her LECTURES…" He glanced at Rob and I suspiciously. "Then why did you not know about this Henry?'

I blinked. Whoops. Here was the time that I was supposed to explain to the police force that I, um, didn't really tend to LISTEN to her lectures. On a regular basis. I glanced up at Rob, who was looking just as sheepish as me. I have to admit, most of the time in Pol. Sci., we just kind of passed notes.

Oh give me a break. It's Political Science? What am I supposed to do, TAKE notes?

Apparently so, according to Marcy's scathing look. But then she did something that made me want to hurt her even less.

She said, "Oh, I don't think they were there that day."

And okay, I know why she did it. The whole time she was talking, she had been glancing up at Rob and giving what, I'm sure SHE thought, were flirtatious smiles. That kinda made me want to hit her all over again, actually. But I was still surprised, and still pretty happy. Take that Officer What's-your-face!

But, of course, the cop didn't seem to buy it. In fact, I suspect he was about to ask some more pointless questions, but before he could, someone called "Hey Officer Mo! Man, I think we got something."

I couldn't decide what to do, collapse in laughter or go over there to check it out. I mean, Officer MO? How so very typical.

Fortunately, my sane and virtually curious side won out, and I grabbed Rob's hand (pointedly, as Macy was still watching), and dragged him over to where they were talking. One of the big burly cops was holding the note that Rob had found, and was showing it to Officer Mo.

"Listen, I was thinking. There's no body in here. Yet, there's a bloodstain on the note. How could she have killed herself in here, which she must have done to leave the note with the blood, yet not have a body with it? Unless someone found the body and moved it, or…"

"Or if she didn't commit suicide."

Oh. Whoops. I hadn't meant to say that out loud.

But too late. Everyone was staring at me, including Rob, who was trying to stifle a groan.

Damn.

"What was that?" said Officer Mo, narrowing his eyes at me. It was clear I was digging my own grave, so, I figured, why not just jump into it?

"You heard me." I said, raising my voice slightly so that everyone could hear.

The room had fallen silent.

"Maybe she didn't commit suicide. I mean, face it, it's a pretty easy thing to do, setting up suicide. Not that I know from experience," I added hastily, as a few of the policemen shot me strange looks. "But come on. Kill her, hide the body, forge the signature, and leave the note in a place where people can find it. It can't be all that complicated."

"The person would have to be a master forger!" one of the officers called out. "The handwriting matched perfectly to her other papers!"

"Or, you know, they could have forced them to write it before they die." Rob was stepping in on my behalf, keeping a hand on the small of my back. "Or Xeroxed and traced it. It can be done."

I smiled warmly at him. He flashed me a quick, here-we-go-again grin back, and went on.

"Plus, guys, it's a scrap of paper. People don't write suicide notes on a scrap of paper! And they usually take the time to finish and correct them properly. Not leave them lying on a school keyboard, where no one may have found it. And, again, there's the whole missing body-"

Rob stopped. And looked at me. Hard.

Then I realized EVERYONE was looking at me. As if they were asking me to do something. As if I should know what they're sympathetic smiles should mean.

Truth is, I didn't have a clue.

"What?" I asked indignantly. The room stayed silent. Finally, one of the younger cops spoke.

"You know," he said slowly. "It would prove it if we could find the body. You know, if we could identify the wounds, where she was when it happened, evaluate facial features…"

Marcy turned pale, along with half of the other people in the room. That's when I realized what they wanted me to do.

I looked at Rob, feeling utterly betrayed. He leaned down and kissed me hard on the lips, running his fingers through my hair. I didn't kiss him back.

He looked at me pleadingly. "Jess, babe, please. I didn't mean… I just thought…. I'm sorry, I know you hate using your powers…" He hung his head. Humph. I hate it when he got adorable.

"Whatever," I said coolly, though the iciness effect was ruined slightly when I reached up and kissed him on the cheek. I sighed and turned back to the audience.

"Well?" I snapped, when no one did anything. "Someone get me a picture! Lightning Girl, at your service."


	4. Crying and Cooking

**CHAPTER FOUR**

You know what is REALLY good therapy for stress/anger/annoyance/boyfriends-that-give-the-police-ideas-that-get-you-involved-with-a-wacked-out-suicide-case?

Hitting something. Really hard. Just bringing out your fist and smacking whatever it is that's annoying you. It's a great strategy. Except that it really doesn't work on the whole boyfriend thing. Cause no matter how much Rob annoys me; I'm not going to hit him. A few reasons;

a.) He's strong. I know Rob REALLY WELL and trust me, he is buff. If he hit back (which I know he would), it would HURT. Like HELL.

b.) I really don't want him mad at me. I mean, annoying and infuriating as he is, I still love him. It's not like I want to start a fight.

c.) It really isn't even his fault. That the police decided to hire me as Lightning Girl, that is. I mean, sure, his little speech had reminded them that I could help, but it was really a total accident.

d.) I had decided a whole no-more-violence policy anyway.

That didn't, however, stop me from being frustrated. Not one bit.

So that's why, an hour and a half after they showed me the picture, you could find me in the house. Cooking.

No, truly, you heard me correctly. Granted, I wasn't exactly baking cupcakes or anything. But that doesn't change the fact that ME, JESS MASTRANI, was cooking.

Ok, it was Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. But STILL. COOKING.

Rob found it as weird as I'm sure you do.

"Mastrani, what the hell are you doing?'

I frowned at him, turning towards the stove and stirring the noodles. "I'm stirring. What does it LOOK like I'm doing?"

"Uh, okay, I'll accept that. But why are you stirring? And WHAT are you stirring?"

I frowned again. "Good stress reliever. ALMOST as good as smacking you." Ha-ha, let him stew in THAT for a while.

I wasn't facing him, so I didn't see him come up behind me and stare at the pot I was standing in front of.

"I'm sorry." He said, resting his chin on top of my head and circling his arms around my waist. When I didn't respond, he nudged my head impatiently. "Jesus Jess! What else do you want me to say? And… holy crap there is no way that that is Mac and Cheese is there?"

Humph. I nodded agreement to the Mac and Cheese comment, and then sighed. His arms were still warm and firm around me.

"It's not your fault." I grumbled, looking down at the floating bite-size macaroni. I stirred briskly, sending them into a whirlpool of steaming water. I was lost in thought.

I didn't even know WHY exactly I was so upset by the whole Professor Ryder Suicide Case thingy. I mean, it's not as if it was the first case I've ever worked on with my powers.

So why did this feel so different?

Well, accept for the fact that I really didn't want to draw attention to my powers again.

And that I really didn't want to get involved in the law anymore then I already was. Not that I was in trouble or anything, I just had a certain… reputation with local law enforcements.

Rob nudged my head again, this time with his lips.

"Come on…" he murmured against my hair, hugging me tighter. "It's all right. Let's just forget about it. You can call those guys and tell them your powers aren't working, and we can just pretend this never happened."

"No," I sighed, and kept on stirring firmly. "No, I should help. I just… God, I just really don't' want to go through this again. I mean," I turned around so that my nose was only a few inches away from his. " I mean, whenever I go all superhero to-the-rescue thing, the people I love usually end up getting hurt. And you can't tell me you enjoy that." I glared at him, daring him to disagree.

Rob just shook his head and put his hand out to stroke my hair. I closed my eyes; just wishing it would all go away.

"I don't like seeing you unhappy." He muttered, running his hand through my hair again. "But I'm always gonna be here, okay? We'll get through this."

And just like that, I started to cry.

Really. Not even broken sobs or anything either, just tears running down my face. I hadn't even felt them well up or fall over, I had just noticed them falling.

I was more shocked then anything. I lifted my finger and touched a tear, looking at it in wonder. I NEVER cried. NEVER. It just wasn't something I DID. It was like cooking, totally un-Jess like. I mean, the whole time I had been in Afghanistan, watching people blow up and finding all these mangled dead bodies, I hadn't cried.

So why…?

I looked up at Rob, my eyebrows furrowed. He was looking surprised.

"I'm crying." I said, unnecessarily. Rob nodded agreement. He looked rather amused.

"I don't cry." I said, shaking my head in bewilderment, tears still tracking down my cheeks. "I never cry. And I'm not even sad."

Rob leaned down so his forehead was leaning against mine. His nose was a centimeter away from mine. His hands went to my hips and he gave me a gentle shake.

"Everyone cries." He said simply.

I started to protest. Maybe some people cried, but I didn't. Not ever. But then, a panicked thought struck me.

"Oh no," I groaned, running a hand distractedly through my hair. "Crap. Does this mean I'm still broken? I didn't think I was! I thought I was over it! So now am I going to beat up Marcy whenever she flutters her eyelashes at you? Damn it. Does this mean I'm going to be one of those pathetic little people that always needs support and is crying all the time and eventually grows to be this paranoid freak that is all dark and depressed and thinks everyone is out to get-"

I was rambling. I couldn't stop the panic from growing inside me, from swallowing me. And suddenly I felt something that I hadn't felt in a long time well over me.

Hopelessness.

Just like that, I was really crying. I sobbed, muffled and sticky sobs, into Rob's shirt, getting it absolutely soaked. He wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me tight, trying to soothe my uncontrollable tears.

I had forgotten how much I HATED crying. Really crying. How wet, and disgusting, and… well ANNOYING it was. I mean, I couldn't get a word out the whole time, and all I wanted to do was explain.

Finally, after a few minutes of trying to get a hold of myself, I could finally speak.

"I can't do it Rob." I whispered, in between heavy breathing. "I can't… I can't save them. I can't go through… I just can't."

"Jess, of course you…"

"No," I said, and bit back another surge of tears. "Rob, I'm not tough. Or strong. Or whatever. I act like it, sure. But inside? I'm a friggin coward, Rob. I'm…" Another deep breathe. "…Scared. That I won't be able to save them. Or help them. Or… god I don't know. All I want to do is be NORMAL. I want to… God, I want to get my degree, teach at that stupid school, get married. I want… I dunno, maybe have kids someday? Die in my sleep at age one hundred. Who knows, but I do just want it to go away. I want…" I shuddered down a deep breath and plowed on. "But it wont' happen. 'Cause everywhere I go, there's always SOMEONE that needs help, and I'm always the one to help him or her out. Always. And I have to. I mean, I've got this power, why not use it, right? But… but someday I'll screw something up, and someone will get hurt. It's been too close too many times. And I don't want…." I shuddered. "I don't want that to happen."

I was babbling again, and I knew it. So I took one last breath, looked up at Rob, and shut up.

He looked at me, a hint of… well, unless I was mistaken, a hint of admiration on his face. And then he kissed me.

That's all; he just leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. No tongue, no groping, no whatever. Just a simple kiss. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him closer.

We swayed on the spot for God knows how long, and then he pulled back.

Putting his finger under my chin, he pulled my face up to look into his eyes. They were clear and soft.

"Jesus Jess," He said softly, running his thumb over my cheek. "I really love you, you know that?"

I nodded, keeping my head down. Somehow, that had been the perfect thing to say.

Suddenly, I smelled something burning.

"Aw, crap." I muttered, turning back to the stove and turning it off. I turned back to Rob.

"Hope you like over-cooked noodles!" I said, imitating a bright and cheerful tone. He laughed.

"Jeez Mastrani. Cooking, crying… what next, knitting?"

I shuddered at the thought, then grabbed the wooden spoon and pointed it at him.

"You tell anyone." I said, mock-menacing. "I.E, my brother about that, I kill you."

Rob winked at me, and started to get out two plates. "I wouldn't dream of it."

**A/N: okay, so not the best chapter in the world, I know. But I had to get Jess's angst out of the way, so I can actually concentrate on the story after this (three cheers!) **

**Anyway, thank you guys SOO much for the reviews. U R the bestest ppl ever!!!!! I was SOO surprised at the amount of ppl that actually read my story (gasp and fall over in a dead faint)**

**And I know I'm not the GREATEST at capturing what the characters are really like… I know rob really isn't' that sweet (pouts) and jess is actually a little tougher (did she ever cry in the books? If she did pretend she didn't) but oh well. Lol. Will update soon (for the surprising amount of ppl that care!)**

**Ttfn!**

Starzill 


	5. Peices & Dreams

Disclaimer (oh right i was supposed to have one of these wasn't it?: now come on. if i was lucky and creative enough to invent these characters would i be writing fanfics on them? I THINK NOT!! 

**CHAPTER 5**

I don't remember eating the charred macaroni and cheese, or cuddling on the couch, watching an oh-so-hilarious sitcom afterwards. I barely remember falling asleep in Rob's arms, still nestled on the couch, and him carrying me off to bed. I almost remember him whispering something in my ear as I drifted off again, my clothes still on.

Nor do I remember what I dreamed about. But it must have been bad, because I woke up screaming.

I felt a strong hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake. I sat up, panting, cold sweat dripping down the small of my back. Rob was there, holding me, kissing my shoulders.

"Shh, jess, you're okay. It's ok. Shhh…"

I shuddered, my t-shirt clinging to my back. I wasn't okay, I was terrible, I was drowning in hot desert sand and decaying bodies…

I looked at Rob, my whole body violently shaking. He looked frightened, as though he was afraid I was going to jump out a window or something.

"Jess, babe, it was just a dream." He whispered, kissing my head with dry cracked lips, his strong hands making soothing circles on my back. "Just a dream."

I shivered, frantically wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face in his shoulder, pressing myself to him as hard as I could. I muttered something unintelligible into his neck.

"What? Jess what did you say?"

"I'm fine." I whispered, reaching up to kiss his cheek, trying to regain my composure. At least I wasn't crying again.

He looked at me skeptically. And then, apparently seeing my face, he shrugged. "Okay, whatever you say." He muttered, still holding me tight.

"I am!" I replied indignantly, sitting up a little straighter, but still keeping a firm grip on rob. "It must have been my cooking. Or something."

Rob was still frowning slightly, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

"Oh yeah, I've heard that overcooked Mac and cheese can do funny things to your head."

"Absolutely."

Rob was still looking at me like I was completely insane, but now his lips were turned up in a smile. He squeezed me closer and kissed me softly. But, devil that he is, just as I was getting into it, he broke off.

"Goodnight Jess. I love you."

"Yeah," I muttered, feigning annoyed, but kissing his cheek anyway. "Ditto."

And I snuggled back down, pillowing my head on his bare chest, trying not to think of the deserts of Afghanistan, and the cries of people waiting to be rescued.

I woke up the next morning with the sunlight streaming through the window next to the bed. I moaned and rolled over, realizing that Rob was still asleep.

I propped myself up on an elbow, watching him breathe in and out. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open. His hair was gently mussed by restlessly rolling over all night, and he was dressed only in boxer shorts.

I gently reached out my hand to touch his hair, smooth it back from his face. He murmured something incoherent and rolled over.

I chuckled.

Leaning over him, I rested my lips on his ear, moving them so that it tickled.

"Mmm," Rob muttered, opening a bleary eye to look at me. "Jess, whatareyou…"

"Get up," I murmured, teasing him with my lips. "Come on…"

He moaned and sat up a little straighter, cupping his hand around the back of my neck for a kiss.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked, looking at me closer. "Last night…"

"Last night was a result of the Mac and cheese." I insisted firmly, narrowing my eyes at him. Ok, so we both knew very well that it was, in fact, a result of being in Afghanistan for God knows how long, but come on! I had to hang on to whatever pride I had left.

He looked at me carefully, and then nodded, shrugging. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes blearily. "Ugh," he moaned, changing the subject. "I need a shower. You?"

I sat up and stretched, a totally strategic move. His eyes were drawn right to where I wanted them.

"Nah, it's okay." I muttered, settling back into the pillows. "You go ahead."

He looked at me, frowning slightly. I glanced at him. His gray eyes were staring straight into me, looking concerned. Uh-oh. Distraction was needed.

I grinned at him, leaning forward until our noses brushed. "Go on." I whispered, moving my lips so that my breath tickled his mouth. "I need to think."

He groaned and leaned his forehead into mine so he could look at me. "Whatever." He said, after another few seconds of staring, and got out of bed. "If you change your mind," he hinted at me as he walked into the bathroom, "then you're welcome."

I nodded, suddenly sleepy, and settled back under the covers. I had an odd feeling that something was missing.

Suddenly, it hit me. Names, addresses, streets. Pounding my head, flooding my brain. I clutched the sides of the bed, biting my lip as hard as I could, trying not to scream. I felt dizzy, my head was too full, I was going to burst…

And then, suddenly, it stopped. Just like that. And I had ten addresses, neatly lined up in my brain. Ten descriptions of the place, ten streets, ten different numbers.

One person. Professor Ryder.

I sat up slightly, teeth clenched, in fear of another dizzy spell. Ten names? Ten different locations? Confused, I raked a hand through my short, unkempt hair, thinking…

All I had to do was find professor Ryder. So why…?

Suddenly, I felt dizzy again. But for a whole different reason this time. I knew exactly why my head felt so light, and I wanted to throw up.

"Rob?" I called, trying to make my voice tough and demanding, but it came out as weak.

Luckily, he hadn't started his shower yet. He poked his head through the bathroom door, looking at me. His eyebrows shot up.

"Jesus. Jess, your as white as a sheet." He said. "Wanna tell me what's wrong?"

I blinked and shook my head to rid the feeling of dread that was washing over me.

"Um," I said, not knowing quite how to put it. "See…"

"Spit it out Jess, I wanna take my shower."

I sighed. "Okay. Um, so just a second ago…. well, basically all these locations shot into my head. All of them for Professor Ryder."

He blinked, not understanding yet. I went on.

"So, either my power is wonky. Again. Or…well…."

But I saw it. I saw it on Rob's face that he understood. He didn't break down, or even gasp. But I saw him clutch the side of the door a little tighter.

"Oh." He said simply, looking away. "So the body is in all of those places, right?'

I nodded mutely.

"She probably didn't commit suicide then, did she? 'Cause her body's cut up and scattered throughout town?"

I nodded again.

He finally looked at me. His face held no trace of what he was feeling.

There was a brief tense silence, which Rob broke by saying, "well. Probably should call Officer Mo then, huh?"

**A/N: lol, so another chapter with some angst. But w/e. I don't love it, but it'll suffice. It goes really fast towards the end. But WHO CARES?? I HAD FUN WRITING IT!! **

**Thanks to ALL of u that have added me to story alert (u have no idea what that does to my ego-)) and especially to those that have reviewed. U rock beyond belief.**

**Anyway, PLEEZ read and REVIEW!! Ill love u forever! Lol, jk.**

**Starzill -)**


	6. BUT SHE'S IN TEN STUPID SECTIONS!

DISCLAIMER: sniff sniff… I hate to break it to you but I…. Sob…. Don't own this story. I'm not Meg Cabot.

**I know, I know. I was astounded when I found out, too.**

**CHAPTER 6**

Officer Mo seemed to be expecting my call.

"Hello?" he said eagerly, after only one ring. "This is Mo SmiggleSchmack. Who is this?"

My heart practically stopped.

No way.

I brought the phone away from my ear, slowly, slowly, looking at it as if it would explode any second now. Then, realizing he wasn't going to say, "ha, ha just kidding, this is Mo Smith!" that I placed the phone back on my ear, carefully.

I mean, MO SMIGGLESCHMACK?

There was no other explanation.

His parents… were escaped psychopaths. I mean, first of all, who names their kid Mo? ESPECIALLY those who have the last name SmiggleSchmack.

It just didn't happen.

"Hello?" he was saying. "HELLO?"

Rob was looking puzzled, motioning with charade-like movements at the phone. He was obviously stuck on the look that must be on my face.

"Later" I mouthed back at him, then started listening to what Mo SmiggleSchmack was saying.

"I swear to god, if this is Joey again I'll cut off your…"

"Whoa!" I said loudly, alarmed. "Whoa. Slow down there, cowboy! It's me, Jess Mastriani!" and did you know that your parents were seriously disturbed?

There was a short pause, brought to an end by him muttering, "Oh, um, well then," he sounded slightly embarrassed, " I apologize. Hello jess!"

"Um." I said, watching Rob making frantic 'tell me NOW' gestures with his hands, a frustrated look on his face. "Hello Mr. SmiggleSchmack."

Rob had a look on his face that suggested I had told him he had won the lottery- a mixture of shock, excitement, and a sick sort of hilarity. Then, his face contorting, he burst into a fit of, I kid you not, manic laughter.

I know. Disturbing.

While my fiancée was rolling on the ground, practically twitching from hilarity, I continued my conversation.

"Um, well, I used my powers, you know, and…"

"YES?" he asked eagerly, though I detected a faint…false note in his voice.

I frowned into the distance, again wondering if this was his first case. His voice was almost frantic with worry- or excitement, which was even more alarming.

"Well..." I said carefully, trying to bring the news slowly upon obviously eager ears. "I, uh…"

"What, Miss Mastriani?"

I decided to put it simply. "There's no way she committed suicide."

"Because…" Officer Mo said, sounding slightly impatient now.

I winced, trying to think up a polite, non-sickening way to put it. I decided on vague hints.

"Because…" I muttered. "Because she's in, um…a lot of different places."

There was a silence. I presumed he was taking it all in, so I continued.

"I mean, I know this puts a weird angle on the case, and I just want to apologize, because I know it will make it harder on you and your crew…"

"Wait. Miss Mastriani, slow down here."

I paused, confused. There was a cool edge to his voice, professional. It sounded as though he was suddenly MAD at me or something.

"Um, what?" I replied, ignoring Rob, who was now motioning at the phone, making "_are you shitting me?_" signs.

I could practically see Officer Mo stiffen, squint his eyes, and glare at the phone.

"What do you mean she's in a lot of different places? Do you mean to tell me that she cut herself up and threw the pieces all over the county?"

"Uh…no. I mean SOMEONE cut her up and threw her around the countryside. Her murde-"

"Miss Mastrani, we have already reached the conclusion, here at the station, that it was not a murder. Mrs. Ryder suffered from depression…"

I was staring to get mad now. "But she's in ten fucking pieces!"

"No, I'm sure you made a mistake." But his tone suggested something else, and I KNEW that he didn't' think, not for one SECOND, that I was telling the truth.

But how could he be so stupid? He had believed me yesterday! Was he hiding something?

"Officer Mo…"

"Young lady, I do believe this conversation is over. We have no further use of you…" he sneered the word, "powers. Thank you for your assistance. Good day."

I looked at the phone, frustration rising like fire in my stomach. I tried to take a deep breath, count to ten, but I only got to five before I broke.

"Listen Mr. SMIGGLESCHMACK. I have helped you on this case, against my and my fiancées wishes. I have endured countless crap over the years, mostly from police officers exactly like you, who have already made up their minds what this case is going to turn out like. It's people like you that wake up, look around the room, and say HMM, I DON'T FEEL LIKE SOLVING A MURDER TODAY!" and muddle the case to your convenience. Well I'M NOT LIKE THAT. I refuse for you to stubborn when PEOPLE'S LIVES ARE AT STAKE HERE. So you need to either shapen up and solve your goddamn case, or I'll do it for you. You got that?"

There was a short pause, and for a single, unifying heartbeat, I actually believed I had convinced him. All I heard was soft breathing on the other end of the phone.

It lasted for so long that I actually started listening for a dial tone, making sure he didn't hang up.

He didn't. Because, not a moment later, I heard his voice coming over the line, sharp and official.

"That's Officer Mo to you, Miss Mastrani. And I can assure you, if you even THINK about messing with police work, the authorities are going to have something to say about it."

And with that disturbing final note, he hung up.

I stared at the phone for a long time, until Rob finally came to from his state of hilarity and noticed I was weirded out. He cocked his head at me, then, suddenly, kneeled down by the couch, staring straight into my eyes.

"Hey you." He said, which sounded very romantic due to his husky tone. "What's wrong?"

For a second, I was just caught staring into his deep gray eyes, mesmerized, having one of those rare moments where I realized exactly how lucky I was to have him. I mean, think about it. We met in fucking DETENTION. We were high-school sweethearts (and there's enough proof that THOSE never work out, BELIEVE ME). He's had several… distractions; he MUST have, when I was in Afghanistan. Any girl would swoon to have him –except Karen Sue Hanky, prejudiced against grits as she was- and yet, out of everyone, he chooses me. ME, Jess Mastrani, tomboy in every respect.

Rob loving me was nothing short of a miracle.

He was still staring into my eyes, not saying a word, waiting for me to break the silence. Flustered, I said the first thing that popped into my head.

"Hey Rob… um… don't you hate store-bought cupcakes?"

He blinked.

"You know, I said hurriedly, "the ones that suck? With all that fake frosting and flaky stale…. Cupcakiness? Don't you think they should be abolished?"

He blinked again, still looking into my eyes. "I…guess…" he said slowly. "Some of them really do suck…."

"You've got THAT right!" I said, warming up to my uselessly rambled topic. "I mean, especially the white cake one, don't those completeahmmmmmmmmmmm…"

I broke off when Rob leaned in and covered my mouth with his.

Yum. All thoughts of store-bought cupcakes abandoned, I kissed him back, tangling my hands in his hair, leaning into him, feeling his nose push roughly against mine, falling back on the carpet, on HIM…

He moaned, breaking off the kiss, staring into my eyes. "Jesus Christ Jess," he said, kissing my temple. "You are the single weirdest girl I know."

I laughed, breathlessly. "I love you too Rob."

He grinned, and it took my breath away to realize that the reason he was looking so happy, that he was so bright and ecstatic, is because of ME. I was so proud of myself fro bringing that expression to his face, that I leaned down to kiss him again.

He pulled away, rolling out from under me and standing up. "Nope." He said, playful-firm. "Not until you tell me what happened with Mr. Mo…SmiggleSchmack." He cracked a grin at the name.

I frowned and stood up too, putting my hands on my hips. "You fight dirty." I muttered.

He laughed, but prompted me with a glance to start my story.

I groaned, and rubbed my head. "Fine," I said. "Well, the basic story is that he REALLY doesn't want to believe it's a murder, and he's doing this whole I'm-a-cop-co-I'm-better-than-you thing. I think he's going to close the case soon."

He frowned. "But didn't you tell him about… you know…"

"Yeah. Not like he cared. He thought I was making it up."

Rob let out a small noise, which sounded a bit like a growl. A Possessive Growl.

"Well," he said tersely. "I guess you have a choice to make."

I blinked. "I do?"

He nodded, searching my eyes again. "You have to be pissed that there's a murderer out running loose, right?"

I nodded, raising my eyebrows. Duh.

"So, you can either leave it up to the police, not your problem, go on." Rob explained, sounding like he didn't like this idea at all. "Or, you could…"

"Solve it myself."

He shrugged and nodded. "Basically."

I groaned, raking my hand through my hair. "What do you think I should do?"

He looked at me, his answer apparent on his face.

We stared at each other for a long time, before I finally threw up my hands and rolled my eyes. "God, do I even have a choice? Whatever. I'll work on the stupid case by myself."

He was grinning now. "Not alone." He murmured, coming up and giving me a huge hug. "I'll be there. Always."

I smiled. Not that I felt GOOD about my decision or anything…

But Rob was with me. And somehow, that was enough.

For now.

**A/N:**

**Oh you lovely, wonderful ppl that are reading this as we speak.**

**I really do adore you. I would however, adore you even MORE if you decided to review. Just, you know, a thought. I figured I might as well put it up for grabs (HEHEMM THAT IS A SUBTLE HINT TO CLICK THE BUTTON AND TYPE A BUNCH OF GUSH ABOUT HOW MUCH U LOVE MY STOY!)**

**Just, u know. For those that didn't pick up my little hint there, this is a plead to REVIEW!!!!!!!!**

**Thanks and you all ROCK!**

**Starzil**

**p.s sorry it took so long to get up….. homework….**

**Pps. SmiggleSchmack? I kid u not, this is BASED ON A LEGITIMATE NAME!**


	7. Phone Calls

**  
**

**DISCLAIMER: ain't her. hate to admit it. **

**CHAPTER SEVEN:**

I hate to be a traitor to my generation and all.

But, phones. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.

And today… well, today, I just wish they would all just go die. A slow and painful death. In a corner. Alone.  
For one thing, they always seem to ring at the most annoying times. Right when you're trying to concentrate on your favorite TV show? Great Aunt Rose decides it's time to give you a call and ask all these very pointless questions about either a.) How high school is going (Auntie, I graduated two years ago), or b.) So how's the old life-love coming along (Auntie, I'm engaged and you're invited to the wedding. Remember the invitation?). Settling down under your sheets to go to sleep? Your Best Friend calls from New York City, talking excitedly about how, ohmigod, she really can't believe that she and your BROTHER are going to officially move in with each other at about the same time that you're going to get married, oh and has she described his KISSES? (Ruth. I can't describe how much I really don't want to know).

Settle down for a minor (okay, major) make out session with your boyfriend-excuse me, **fiancé**…

…And your MOTHER calls… frantically complaining about how her old wedding china doesn't match the tablecloth she picked out for my Big Day.

"Mom." I said exasperatedly, after removing myself from Rob's lap and answering the phone. "Haven't we gone through this? I really don't want a wedding at all… and neither does Rob, so you know-"

"But you said you just didn't want a BIG wedding!" she complained. "You KNOW I already sent out invitations…"

"Yes." I said, after counting to ten. "Yes, but, mom, you only sent a few right? For a party afterwards or something? Because, you know, we just wanted a few witnesses or something…"

I instantly knew I had made a mistake. Rob knew it too, because he quit flipping channels on the T.V, muttered something about a toothbrush, and ran out of the room. And he thought he was so tough.

"JESSICA MASTRIANI!" my mother was shrieking across the phone wires. "JESS, I will NOT have a daughter of mine ELOPE with her high school BOYFRIEND!" When she got mad, my mom tended to emphasize all the words she could. She went on to say, "YOU are my ONLY DAUGHTER and YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE A PROPER WEDDING IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO! IT'S ENOUGH that you are marrying a…" shuddered the word, "GRIT. But to ELOPE? I DON'T THINK I COULD STAND IT! WHAT WOULD THE NEIGHBORS SAY?"

"Be careful, ma." I said in a bored voice. "What if you got a head full of grey hair earlier in life than you should? THEN what would the neighbors think?"

"JESS." She said in a warning tone of voice. Then she sighed, and I could picture her, running her hand back through her hair, leaning against the counter, shooting exasperated glances at my father. "Listen, honey, we just want what's best for you, your father and I. And what we think is best is if you have a real wedding. With flowers, and family, and daddy to walk you down the aisle…."

"Mom." I said, just as exasperatedly. "What's best for me is if I marry the guy I love the way I want. As in… I don't want this to be a big thing, okay?" or ANYTHING I restrained from saying.

She sighed. "Oh sweetie…" she said, groaning into the phone. "Will you AT LEAST wear your grandmothers wedding dress? It is beautiful, and I bet it's just your size. Apart from that… well, we'll see, okay?"

I blinked. This was actually a shorter argument than I usually got. Could it be that she was wearing down?

"Sure ma. Grandma's wedding dress will be fine." I suppressed a gag at the thought of all that lace.

"Good!" my mother said brightly. "Now, I have one more thing I wanted to discuss…"

I inwardly moaned. This could only be one thing…

"Sweetie, this thing where you're living with Rob… well, I just don't know. I realize we've discussed this before, and I know that…"

"MA!" I said loudly, inwardly wincing. "MY STUFF IS ALL OVER AT HIS HOUSE! I HAVE BEEN LIVING HERE FOR MONTHS AND NOTHING HAS HAPPENED! WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH?"

"DON'T CALL ME MA!" Great. We were back to yelling now. You know, I am considering grabbing Rob, catching a train, and running away from all of this. We could go to NYC. Or Istanbul. I'm not sure where that is, but I'm almost positive it's better than having to deal with a world of people who think you're on the wrong side of the tracks. At least in Istanbul, nobody speaks English, and therefore nobody cares about people that do. That would be better than every step being monitored by an unwanted parent.

"I"LL CALL YOU WHATEVER I WANT TO!" Okay, so this was a lie. Because right now I'm thinking a word that starts with a B and ends in something that requires scratching, and there is no way that I will ever call my mother that.

I heard her heavy breathing in the phone, and knew I was totally in deep crap. VERY deep. And I didn't even call her the b-word.

And then. I swear to god, it was like a movie. Right before my mother said and/or did something drastic, a little beeping sounded.

Call waiting.

I will never again question my faith in god.

Uttering a tiny prayer, I said quickly, "sorry ma…. Eh-Em, MOM, but there's someone else trying to reach me. Could I call you back and discuss this later?"

And, without waiting for her to answer, I hung up on her.

"Hello?" I said into the phone, now connected to an unknown number.

There was no answer. Just breathing.

And breathing.

And… you guessed it, more deep breathing.

I became annoyed. "Yes, wow, you can breath into the receiver and it comes across the phone line into my ear, aren't you talented? Now who are you and what do you want?"

I must have startled the person because their breath caught, and there was a pause. Then, there was some rummaging around, and clanking. I tapped my foot impatiently.

Finally, someone said…. "SOKLUURCIMGUMDVIRDIRUVVUNRITERR!"

I kid you not.

"SOKLUURCIMGUMDVIRDIRUVVUNRITERR!"

It sounded as though they were speaking through one of those things that disguised your voice and made it all mangled. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm sorry Mr. I'm-so-mysterious-I-have-to-pretend-I'm-an-alien-in-order-to-confuse-you, but I didn't understand a word you just said." If it was real words, that is.

I heard a dramatic sigh, and some more clanking. Finally, a really, REALLY fake deep, British voice said "STOP WORKING ON SOLVING THE MURDER OF VANRYDER, OR ELSE!"

I blinked. Oh, wow. "So you're the murderer?"

There was some hasty, mumbled swearing on the other end of the phone, which I am too polite to repeat here.

"You know," I bluffed. "I have caller ID. I know exactly what house you called from."

More swearing, then the same, fake, deep voice sounded again. "I STAR SIX NINED IT, NICE TRY."

"You think that fools the police? Please. They have ways to track calls."

There was a pause, as if the murderer was considering this. I took the time to subtly let Rob (who was in the kitchen, making popcorn), to pick up the other phone.

"Well!" the deep voice said again. "JUST STOP WORKING ON THE VANRYDER CASE IF YOU AND YOUR BOYFRIEND WANT TO LIVE!"

I blinked again. "FIANCE!" I yelled out, just in time for the click at the other end.

I looked at Rob. He looked at me.

"Well." I said. "That was pathetic."

He nodded, agreeing with me.

"Hmm…" I said, considering. I could call back SmiggleSchmack…. But frankly, I was sick of him.

"So Rob!" I said instead. "You up for some hunting? Of body parts?"

He looked at me. "Sureee…" he said slowly.

Beaming, I got up and started to put on my coat. He was still looking at me like I was insane. "Jeez Jess, you are the weirdest girl I know. That call egged you on, didn't it?"

I shrugged, smiling. "Nothing makes me want to do something more than when somebody is against me doing it." No lie there. And I think Rob knew it, because all he did was shake his head again and say:

"You're a rebel, aren't you?"

I grinned. "Oh yeah." I said. "That's me."

And we set off.

**A/N:**

**HEY YOU GUYS! I bet half of you abandoned me, didn't you? It's been MONTHS! I have no excuse, all I have to say is that I've been busy, and thanks for all the PMs telling me to write more! You have no idea how much those encouraged me, and I appreciate it.**

**Anyway, not a GREAT chapter, but enough to tide you over I figure. I had no idea how to end it, so I just…. Ended it. Bear with me here. I PROMISE I will try to write more ASAP. Meanwhile, HAPPY HOLIDAYS and the best present in the world would be for you guys to take six second out of your life and REVIEW!**

**THANKS TO ALL OF You!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**You are my fav human beings -))))**

**Bye!**

**starzill**


	8. A Sincere Apology

I know that author notes aren't TECHNICALLY allowed, so I'll keep this brief.

I AM SO SO SO SO SO SORRY THAT I HAVE NOT UPDATED IN ABOUT TEN BILLION YEARS.

Really, I am not dead, nor kidnapped, nor in any way unable to update. Except writer's block, does that count?

Really though, this is getting ridiculous. My story is practically abandoned, but do not worry! MORE IS COMING! Please, everyone, hang in there for just another week or so and I promise an update. Early Christmas present… lots o' mush and murder!

Don't lose your faith…. I AM BACKK!

Love:

Starzill


	9. Aspirin, Please

This couldn't be right.

When I had woken up with all those thoughts streaming through my head, all those addresses, all those places and names and numbers and letters, I hadn't thought of what I would do with them. All I had thought about was the aspirin I needed to take, that instant, immediately.

Afterwards, of course, I had immediately thought of nothing but the meaning behind those addresses. The cruel, bitter significance of all those image-less addresses. After coming to my brief Holy-Shit-She's-In-Ten-Fucking-Sections-Epiphany, I had thought of nothing more than aspirin for a while again. Then Rob and me had talked. More aspirin. Those dosage limits on the back of the container are for wusses.

But now that I was actually here, actually staring at the place where exactly 1/10th of my Political Science professor was buried/hidden/thrown away/God knows what, I began to feel as if aspirin was a little weak for what I was feeling.

It's not that the place was particularly scary; it wasn't. It wasn't even vaguely scary, actually. Not a hint of a goose bump anywhere on my arms.

I guess that's what made it so creepy actually. The lack of anything to be creeped out about. I don't know if you've ever been searching for body parts before, but it's suspenseful work. You prepare yourself for anything. You expect everything.

Except, that is, for your case to lead you to an unsuspecting, tailored, perfectly painted suburban house.

This couldn't be right.

I could tell Rob was thinking the same thing, because I could see him sending quizzical looks in my direction out of the corner of my eye. In any other circumstance, I would have turned to face him, would have met his eye and raised my eyebrows, maybe taken his hand, maybe not.

But I was too transfixed with this house.

It was so perfectly imperfect. Such a typical house…. almost too typical. As if, in it's complete and utter ordinariness, it was completely and utterly uncharacteristic. It blended so well into the identical houses around it, the perfectly straight and symmetrical windows and fences in the background, that I'm surprised the kids that lived there could distinguish which house it was while walking home from the bus.

That's another thing. There were kids living there. And I'm not talking pot-smoking adolescents, either. Little ones. On the bland, grey paved driveway, there were messy, scribbled kids chalk drawings in all different shades of pastel. A small, red, tricycle was lying abandoned near the open garage, in which sat a modest looking mini-van with a bumper sticker saying "What Would Jesus Do?"

Christ. They were even churchgoers.

The house didn't even look a little foreboding; it had the happy air of a happy family to it. Ever see 'Leave It To Beaver'? Happy. Safe. Cute. Picturesque.

And 1/10th of my former professor was somewhere in there.

I knew I couldn't be wrong—my powers weren't out of whack, I could FEEL it. I wasn't crazy. This was the spot, clear as day. My Lightning-Girl senses were tingling.

But… how?

And what was I supposed to do, anyway? March up to the door; ring the doorbell, and then what? 'Hi, I'm a psychic superchick, and something's telling me that one Mrs. Ryder's body is to be found here. Or, at least, part of it. Maybe an arm, or possibly the head.'

Yeah. I'm thinking not.

It's just as I'm thinking this that I notice Rob giving me a worried look, waving his hand in front of my face. I startle and blink, shaking my head as if to get rid of a pesky fly.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" I asked, trying to avoid looking at the house again. The pure juxtaposition of the whole messed up situation was making me feel sick.

Rob shrugged. "I didn't say anything. I just wanted to bring you back to reality."

"Worked."

"Yeah…"

We stood there for a minute, not quite meeting each other's eyes, looking pointedly anywhere but at The House. I was starting to wish I'd brought along more aspirin.

"So…" Rob finally cut the silence, softening the harshness of the broken hush with a sarcastic grin. "Not quite what I expected."

"Yeah, no kidding" I said, grimacing as I looked at my boot-clad feet. "I thought it was going to be some abandoned alleyway or something. Not…"

"Yeah." Rob got it. I could tell from the look on his face, when I finally brought it upon myself to meet his gaze. The whole thing was unsettling. It was getting to me, I could tell.

I didn't know what to do. For the first time in a long time. I didn't know what made it so hard to go up and pound on this door—hey, one slice of wood on hinges is just like another, right?—but for some reason, I couldn't. I would have had no problem had it been some scary-looking haunted place. That would have seemed all right. I would have just gone up, pounded on the door, and maybe whoever opened it for good measure. Hey, a girl's gotta have principles.

So the lack of a ghost in the attic and a creaky, broken roof should have made it that much easier, right?

Wrong.

Rob cleared his throat. I noticed he was looking at me, expectantly, as if he was waiting for orders. I looked back at him. He was so beautiful in the overhead sun, the fading light. What made him even more perfect is how he didn't even realize it.

Oh, wow. Now I have goose bumps. Way to go, Jess: hunting for body parts? No problem, but as soon as you lay eyes on your hot fiancé, there go the shivers up your spine. I am so messed up, on so many different levels.

"I don't know what to do next." I said, finally. Hey, indecisive I may be, but dishonest I am not.

Rob nodded, thoughtfully.

I felt a sudden need to justify myself. " I mean, come on. Look at the place. It's a family home, somewhere little kids live. It can't be…. It's not…." Tainted, that was the word I was looking for. But Rob nodded, before I could finish my sentence.

"But it's here Jess. I mean. It's here. We have to find out."

I shrugged. "Well I don't know, maybe my powers are outta whack. It's entirely possible." Lie. Okay, so I'm not COMPLETELY honest. So sue me.

Unfortunately for me and my quest to leave the innocence of the neighborhood be, Rob saw right through me. He got that look on his face, the kind he gets when I stubbornly refuse to drink pulp-less orange juice, or insist that my motorcycle didn't need a new seat, the old leather one was perfectly fine. The kind of look he gets on his face when he feels I am somehow obscuring justice.

You know. That kind of stuff.

"Jess." He started. Uh oh, I was in trouble. Jess, not Mastriani. Crap.

"I know it's hard, I know it is babe…" He said, leaning down so he could peer directly into my eyes. I caught my breath. "But you know, life isn't easy. I know this is one of the most difficult parts, I know you don't have a plan, and I don't either. But we have to figure this out. We have all the tools, all the starting blocks." He tapped my head affectionately. "But the rest we have to figure out on our own. That's the sacrifice for this…" He tapped my head again.

I glared at him. "Fine. What do you want me to do, walk up to the door and tell them what we're doing?"

Rob shrugged "sure. What the hell. As long as we do it."

"Fine." I said, slightly huffily at being given such a high school pep talk. "You do it."

He looked at me. We locked eyes for a second. Finally, he grinned.

"Yeah, okay."

And just like that, he started to walk up the pathway to the wooden, inviting door.

I stood there for a second, frozen. I couldn't believe it. Then, I realized what was happening.

Oh my God. He was braver than me. No way. Not happening. No fiancé of mine is going to out-brave me. Not if I can help it. I hastened after him, my head whirling. He was ringing the doorbell. The door was opening, a woman was appearing.

I skidded to a halt. Rob was frozen. The woman had a surprised look on her face.

But not nearly as surprised as mine.

Why?

It was professor Ryder.

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Wow. I suck. Like, a lot.**_

_**Please, readers all over, the few trickles remaining that have faith in me. Feel free to shoot me.**_

_**So I was two months late. Hehe. Yeah……**_

_**Have I mentioned I suck?**_

_**And this chapter is certainly not worth the wait, unfortunately. The ending is rushed and the whole time I sit around describing a freaking house' and I never can quite get it right. Ah well. Such is life, right?**_

_**I apologize profusely to each and every one I have kept waiting. Forgiveness is appreciated =)**_

_**Now that I'm back into the swing of things, hopefully I can get another chapter up soon. But don't quote me on that.**_

_**Also, feel free to bug me. PM, review, whatever you need to to give me a quick prod with a hot poker, and get me writing.**_

_**Speaking of which:**_

_**Ms. Melodramatic (Love your penname, by the way) and xoxbexstersxox……. They are who you should thank for this chapter. Deds go to them, couldn't have done it without your prodding. And I mean that in the best possible way.**_

_**=)**_

_**Hope you enjoy, and I'm sorry again.**_

_**Starzill**_


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